


Begin As You Mean To Go On

by kay_emm_gee



Series: Bellarke Fic Week: February 2015 [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Implied sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3374519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 3: First Date AU</p><p>That time Clarke overslept because of an extra hospital shift and almost missed her first date with Bellamy. Lucky for her, Bellamy excels at spontaneous plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin As You Mean To Go On

Bellamy peeked his head inside the dark on-call room, smiling when he saw the small blond curled up on the cot to the left. Closing the door behind him, he walked softly over to her and crouched down near her head. Her blue scrubs were twisted all around in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable arrangement, but Clarke was dead asleep. Her mouth was the slightest bit open, and she was breathing slowly, deeply, and quite loudly. Stifling a chuckle, Bellamy laid his hand gently on her shoulder, tightening his grip to wake her.

“Clarke,” he whispered.

She kept breathing evenly, not moving a muscle.

“Clarke.” He squeezed her shoulder again, and this time she twitched under his hand, giving a little snort as well. Bellamy let a short, quiet laugh escape, because damn was this cute. And, totally embarrassing enough to hold over her head for the next few months.

“Clarke,” he said, raising his voice and shaking her a bit harder.

She jerked awake, flipping from her side onto her back. Blinking in the dark, she stared up at the ceiling before turning her head to look at him. Bellamy pressed his lips together to suppress a smile as he watched her stare at him in sleepy confusion. After a few more blinks, she asked, “Bellamy? What are you doing here?”

“Low, even for you, trying to use your insane commitment to your job to get out of our first date.”

Clarke squinted at him briefly, before widening her eyes in shock and apology. Scrambling up in the cot, she pressed a hand to her mouth, reaching out with her other hand to grab his at the edge of the cot.

“Oh no, I am so sorry. What time is it? Never mind,” she interrupted herself, pushing off the bed as she darted for the door. “I can change and be ready in ten, maybe fifteen, okay give me twenty minutes because I’m pretty sure I didn’t wash off that vomit completely before I laid down, but I unexpectedly worked a double shift and just had to rest my eyes, stain be damned, and—”

“Clarke,” Bellamy said teasingly as he reclaimed her hand from the doorknob. Turning her so she was back to the door, he looked down at her distraught face and smiled. “As much as I appreciate the effort, the restaurant closed about half an hour ago. That was quite a nap, but I’m sure it was necessary, Miss Overachiever.”

Clarke dropped her chin to her chest, groaning out more apologies. When she said something about rescheduling, on her dime too, Bellamy chuckled and tipped her head back up.

“It took me months to get my sister’s best friend to agree to go out with me. You are so not getting out of this tonight, Dr. Griffin.” Dropping his hand, he reached for the door and left her, calling over his shoulder, “Meet me in the cafeteria in five minutes.”

Clarke’s dazed laugh followed him down the hallway, and Bellamy grinned, pleased that somehow, despite the delay, this night was turning out better than he had expected.

* * *

As she looked in the too-tiny mirror of the locker room, Clarke hurriedly tried to wrangle her hair into something nicer than a sleep-flattened messy bun, but her curls were just not cooperating.  Sighing in defeat, she simply let her hair fall, figuring plain old wearing-it-down would have to do. Adjusting the pair of clean scrubs she had changed into (because the alterative was her very fancy dress with the very sexy but slightly uncomfortable bodice she had originally planned to wear tonight or her Stanford sweatpants and holey long-sleeved MOMA shirt that she had worn to work yesterday morning), Clarke slapped on some lip balm and headed out the door. It was just Bellamy, and their first date was now going to be in the hospital cafeteria, and so what if she looked like she did every day at work?

Except it was Bellamy, her best friend’s brother, the one who had gotten on her nerves since the first time he barged into their dorm room, yelling at Octavia for ending up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning her first weekend of college. Clarke had tried to stand up for her roommate, because she hadn’t learned the ‘don’t get involved in a Blake sibling fight’ rule yet. It hadn’t helped that Clarke had paid Octavia’s bill, because her parents’ gave her an excessive allowance that she wouldn’t come close to using up, so why not help her new friend. Bellamy had been deeply offended by her gesture. _We don’t take handouts_ , he had growled at Octavia, who, for the next few months, continually hid random dollar bills in Clarke’s things to repay her, all of which Clarke simply used to buy Octavia presents or food or booze.

Strangely, Clarke and Bellamy’s animosity had simply strengthened Octavia’s relationships with each of them, and so they learned to tolerate each other. As college passed and Octavia moved onto teaching elementary school and Clarke attended medical school at UCSF, her relationship with Bellamy had eased into one of neutral acknowledgement and grudging respect. They weren’t outright rude to one another anymore, even managing to be pleasant at times. Then, in Clarke’s last year of medical school, Bellamy had moved to San Francisco, and somehow the two of them became friends. They celebrated his promotion at the FBI field office, and her residency matching with a hospital in the city, and somewhere along the way, their friendship had moved towards something more.

Now, seven months into her residency, Clarke was walking down the familiar cream-and-sage-green hospital halls, in scrubs with no makeup and messy hair, about to get into the elevator that smelled like antiseptic to go three floors down to the enormous and usually chilly cafeteria where Bellamy—annoying, proud, protective, kind-hearted, sarcastic, loyal Bellamy—was waiting for their first date.

Reminding herself to breathe, Clarke walked slowly out of the elevator and into the cafeteria, with its supremely high ceilings and gigantic windows that overlooked the rainy courtyard outside. Only a few of the fluorescent lights were on, the rest of the room illuminated by cloud-dampened moonlight. A flicker caught her eye, and to her right, Clarke saw a handful of lit tealights surrounded by colorful plastic plates and cups, a box of the best pizza in the city, and a bottle of red wine, all sitting on top of a checkered table cloth. Impressed, Clarke grinned, warmth blooming in her chest at his spontaneous gesture.

“That wasn’t five minutes,” Bellamy said, also smiling, from his seat behind the display.

“You know I’m not a morning person,” Clarke responded as she approached the table.

“It’s 1:30.”

“Yeah, A.M. Still morning.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, muttering _such a princess_ under his breath. Clarke quirked her face at him in mock annoyance; he never said the nickname with malice anymore, and secretly, she liked the inside joke, because it was uniquely theirs.

As Clarke sat down on the plastic chair, Bellamy poured them both wine and then served her pizza (three pieces, because he knew she’d be offended if he gave her less). Biting into the first piece, she sighed contently. Her last meal had been a stale granola bar and some burnt coffee smuggled to her from the nurses’ station by Harper.

“This is amazing,” she garbled, mouth full of dough, pepperoni, and cheese.

“Best food and decor I could scrounge together at this late hour,” Bellamy teased.

Clarke swallowed with some difficulty, partly due to the scalding sauce and partly due to the lingering guilt. “You did good, Bell. Really, this is wonderful. I hope you’re not too mad that my nap messed up your original plans.”

Raising an eyebrow mockingly, he asked, “How do you know this wasn’t my plan all along?”

“Because otherwise I wouldn’t have brought that blue dress I wore to Octavia’s engagement party to work with me, because you said I’d need something ‘nice’ to wear to dinner.”

“Okay, now I’m a little mad, because you looked damn good in that dress.”

Wiping her mouth with a paper napkin, Clarke smiled and said, “Mm, guess you’ll just have to take me out for a re-do.”

“That, or maybe you could go put it on now.”

“Let me finish the rest of the pizza, and maybe I will.”

Bellamy laughed, a low, happy sound, and Clarke blushed at the promise it held.

* * *

Hours later, when they were lying naked and wrapped up in blankets on the cot in the on-call room, Clarke pressed a kiss to Bellamy’s heated chest and asked, “So, now do I get a second date, because I never got around to showing you that dress again.”

Bellamy hummed contemplatively, shrugging in fake nonchalance.

Biting his collarbone in retaliation, Clarke jokingly complained, “Oh, I see how it is: we sleep together on the first date, and now there’s no need for effort on your part. Damn my low standards.”

“Princess, I’ve been trying to make you fall for me for years, how’s that for effort.” He leaned down, capturing her lips in an intense, messy, long, deep kiss, before continuing, “And yeah, you get a second date, and a third, and however many more you could want.”

Clarke laughed as his broad hands moved up to tickle then caress her sides, and she snuggled into him, sighing happily and thinking that with a first date as good as this one, they were off to a pretty damn fine start.   


End file.
